


Ineffable Honeymoon

by MagnetoTheMagnificent



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Boating, Camping, Changing Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has an Anxiety Disorder (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Driving, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Honeymoon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multifandom Cameos, Other, Road Trips, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley's Honeymoon is a road trip around America, packed with as many multifandom cameos as I can.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting chapters weekly until it's finished

Crowley ripped off her bowtie and collapsed onto the sofa.   
"Well, we did it, Angel," she sighed, reaching for the bottle of wine.  
"Yep. Married in the eyes of the law and the Lord," Aziraphale agreed, holding out his glass.   
"M exhausted," Crowley murmured, cuddling up to her angel.   
"Me too. Shall I carry you to our room, dearest?" Aziraphale asked, with a wicked twinkle in his eye.   
"Ooh, that'll be lovely, darling."

An angel and a demon sat in a witch's living room, asking for advice.  
"Well, Anathema, Crowley and I, as you know, are married now," Aziraphale began awkwardly.   
"Yes, I was at your wedding. What's your point?"  
Aziraphale smiled and continued.  
"Well, Crowley and I wanted to, ah, have a, what's it you humans call it? A marmalade comet?"  
Crowley snorted and nearly spat out her drink.   
"Honeymoon, Angel, honeymoon."  
Anathema looked at the pair with confusion.  
"That's really nice, but what do you need me for? That's more of a job for a travel advisor," she asked   
The angel lit up, and began to hurriedly explain himself.   
"Yes, well, Crowley and I already decided on a location, but we figured it best to get some insider information from someone who lived there."  
Anathema shook her head in amusement.  
"You're honeymooning in America?"   
The couple nodded in unison.  
The witch sighed.  
"America's a big country, you know. Most Americans haven't even ventured out of their home state."  
Crowley let out a groan.   
"See? I told you she'd be of no help!"  
Eager not to disappoint, Anathema quickly backtracked.   
"But I could give you a list of all the key places you should visit. National landmarks, tourist traps, the American experience."  
Aziraphale clasped his hands together and looked at his wife triumphantly.   
"Thank you dear! We knew you would help us!"

Crowley looked ahead at the long queue for security.  
"You do know we can teleport, right Angel?" they asked as they tapped a scaly foot impatiently.   
"Crowley, dear, that would ruin the experience. We should try to do everything the human way," Aziraphale insisted.   
Crowley hissed between their teeth, quiet enough for Aziraphale not to hear.   
"Please remove any loose articles and shoes," a security officer instructed.   
Crowley reached for their glasses reluctantly, glancing at Aziraphale, who nodded at them to continue.   
Once their sunglasses were removed, Crowley kept their head low so as to not draw attention to their eyes.   
Aziraphale passed through the metal detector with ease, and motioned Crowley to follow.   
When they walked through, the detector let out an awful beep, making Crowley jump.   
Two security guards approached, and Crowley looked around nervous.  
"No need to worry, sir, something must have set off the detector. We'll just pat you down here."  
Crowley looked at their husband pleasingly.  
"I'm afraid my partner here gets very nervous at being touched," Aziraphale intervened.   
"I understand completely, sir, but we have to follow protocol," the officer answered apologetically.   
"Do you have any artificial joint, pacemaker, or brace?" the second officer asked Crowley, who was becoming panicked.   
"N-no, I don't think so," they stammered.   
"You don't think so?" the officer intoned with suspicion.   
In truth, Crowley had no idea what artificial joints or pacemakers were, but how were they supposed to explain that.   
Aziraphale rushed to be by his partner's side, but was blocked by a third officer.   
"Please," he pleaded, "my partner has anxiety and is quite distressed by this situation."  
The officer only nodded before approaching Crowley, whose head was still turned down, avoiding looking at the officers.   
"Sir,"  
Crowley winced at the title.  
"Sir," the officer repeated, "please look up at me so I can explain what we're going to do."  
Crowley looked up shakily, and the officer tried not to gasp at their eyes.   
"What's your name?" the officer asked.   
"Anthony Crowley."  
"Okay, Anthony, we're going to pay you down to make sure you're not carrying anything harmful. This is standard procedure, and we are in no way trying to make you uncomfortable."  
Right…  
"Would you rather a male or female officer pat you down?"   
"Aziraphale," Crowley mumbled.  
"What's that?"  
"Aziraphale, my husband."  
The officer laughed.  
"I'm afraid we can't do that, Anthony. If you can't choose, I'm going to pay you down. Is that alright?"  
"Jussst get on with it, then," Crowley hissed, clamming up.   
The officer pat them down, and then waved a wand around their body.   
"Well, I looks like it's just your earring, here, Anthony," the officer chuckled.   
Crowley smiled weakly.  
The officer escorted Crowley back to Aziraphale, who breathed a sigh of relief.   
"First time in security?" the officer asked.   
"I'm afraid so," Aziraphale answered, gripping Crowley's still shaking hand.  
"You on vacation?"  
"Honeymoon."  
"Congratulations! I hope the rest of your trip goes smoothly. Welcome to America!"  
Aziraphale smiled warily and nodded.   
Welcome to America indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have a little fun

When they had finally made it out of JFK International and to their hotel, Crowley was thoroughly drained.   
"I think we should order dinner up to our room," Aziraphale suggested, unpacking their bags.   
Crowley let out a muffled affirmation from where they were splayed out on the bed.   
"Oh dear, those Americans were dreadfully overzealous with their security," the angel commented, standing by the window.  
"Mmmf"   
"But, we're here now, thankfully."  
Below him, the lights of New York City twinkled cheerfully.  
"Come to bed," Crowley called, now sitting up.  
"What about dinner?"  
"We can have dinner later. After spending all those hours in that cramped plane, and then standing all that time in all those queues, you must be exhausted," Crowley retorted.   
"Well, I suppose I could use a little lay down," Aziraphale admitted, closing the curtains.   
"Of course you do!" Crowley exclaimed, and with a snap, Aziraphale found himself on top of his spouse.   
"Dearest, I thought we agreed on no miracles," he chided lightly.   
Crowley rolled their eyes.   
"What can I say? I'm a demon!" they giggled with a wink.   
"You sure are, darling."  
Thus began the first night of their honeymoon, an angel and demon laughing away in bed in the middle of a very, very strange land. 

The next day, they fed the ducks at Central Park and visited the Natural History Museum.   
"You know what I hear, darling?" Aziraphale asked as they glanced skeptically at the enormous dinosaur skeleton.   
"What?" Crowley replied absentmindedly, fiddling with a bone.   
"That at night, this museum comes to life," Aziraphale answered in a conspiratorial tone.   
Crowley scoffed.  
"Umm, excuse me, step away from the dino," a security guard called out, brusquely approaching the two.   
Crowley swerved, remembering their last encounter with an officer.   
"What do you think you're doing?" the guard asked, his hands on his hips.   
"Terribly sorry-," Aziraphale began to apologize.   
"Daley. Larry Daley. You're British, huh?"  
"I suppose."  
Almost immediately, Crowley realized the guard was not a threat.   
"I don't see what the problem is," they drawled, tracing a spindly finger on a bone.  
"Hey! Don't touch that!" Daley sputtered.   
"Why? S not like it's real," the demon shrugged.   
"All a hoax," Aziraphale added, his inner bastard shining through. He couldn't let Crowley have all the fun.   
"Oh, great, religious folk, aren't you?"   
"Something of the sort."  
"Christian? 'Cause you seem like the type. And if you're not going to respect history, you may as well leave."  
"Oh no, that would look terrible on my record," Crowley protested, grinning.  
"Ah, so you're Jewish."  
"No, no, not that there's anything wrong with that."  
Crowley terribly enjoyed the perplexed expression on Daley's face.  
"Okay, we've had our fun. Forgive us, we just couldn't help ourselves. It is our first real interaction with an American in the States," Aziraphale apologized, trying not to laugh.   
"Okay…"   
Daley narrowed his eyes at the odd couple, who made their way to the miniatures.   
"Cute," Crowley mused, winking at the Western diorama. If a certain tiny cowboy became enraged, that was 'purely' coincidence. 

For the evening, since they couldn't decide on whether to see Little Shop of Horrors or Cats, they viewed both in miraculous succession.   
"No, you are not getting a carnivorous plant, dear," Aziraphale informed his partner over dinner.   
"Aww, why?" Crowley pouted.  
"You know perfectly well why."  
"What if it ate your customers?" they suggested wickedly.   
"Perhaps," Aziraphale smiled into his wine.   
As they strolled back to the hotel under the glare of the city and the faint glint of moonlight, Aziraphale could almost swear he heard Crowley hum the melody to 'Memory.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually been to the Museum of Natural History, but anyway, I'm going off of Night at the Museum.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter starts with fluff, then Crowley has a little fun, and then there's even more fluff. They're on their Honeymoon, of course there's going to be fluff!

The next day, they drove upstate to Niagara Falls.   
"Beautiful," Crowley murmured, gazing down at the towering water.   
It was nighttime, but the falls were illuminated by gentle lights. The stars twinkled above.   
"You know I helped create them," the wistful demon commented.   
"The falls?"  
"No, the stars."  
Crowley gestured to the sky, spattered with lights.   
"Hmm. That makes sense," Aziraphale hummed, "only you could create such beauty, balance, and chaos in one magnificent masterpiece."  
Crowley's face flushed a deep red.   
"Angel…."  
Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley lightly on the knuckles.   
"You've been all the great artists' muse, how lucky I am that you chose me," he uttered reverently, his voice full of love and adoration.   
"Aww, Angel, you know they were all too loopy for my tastes."  
"Even DaVinci?"  
"Even DaVinci," Crowley answered, kissing his angel. 

That afternoon they took a flight to Baltimore-Washington International, and thankfully security wasn't too harsh on Crowley.  
"Mm, Dissstrict of Columbia. I can sssmell the demonic influence," Crowley grinned as they stood in front of the Washington Monument.   
"I thought Las Vegas was the sinful city," their husband wondered.   
"Oh no, Angel. Drugs and ssssex can only go ssso far, but here, not only are there drugsss and sssex, but bribessss and laundering and extortion," the demon explained with glee.  
Aziraphale shook his head fondly. No matter what, his partner was still a demon.  
"Come, Angel, there's a place I have to show you," Crowley urged, taking his hand.   
"Hmm. The den of iniquity, the White House?"  
"Aw, now you sound like Shadwell," Crowley teased.  
"It better not be the Capitol Building. I do not care for politicians."  
"It'sss not, trussst me. But you have to close your eyes until we get there," Crowley assured him.   
"Close my eyes?"  
"Yep. And no peeking, I know you're a little bastard."  
Aziraphale chuckled. That much was true. But, eager to please, he kept his eyes closed the whole time. Maybe. 

"Okay, you can open 'em," Crowley announced.   
They removed their hand from in front of Aziraphale's eyes (because Aziraphale was just a bit of liar).   
"Tada!"  
Aziraphale gasped. He was standing at the door of a massive library.   
"Oh, Crowley! This must be the Library of Congress!" he gushed, clasping soft hands to his heart.   
"It is, Angel. Shall we go in?"   
Crowley held out their arm, and Aziraphale daintily took it, but not before he planted a quick kiss on their cheek.   
"I love you dearest."  
"I love you, too, Angel," Crowley purred, "but how do you know I don't just want to steal something in there?"   
Aziraphale chuckled at the insinuation.  
"What could you possibly want to steal?"  
"Oh, y'know, Presidential Book of Sssecrets," they whispered.   
"Hush, you," Aziraphale teased. 

They took the train to Philadelphia, which Crowley found utterly demonic, even for their standards.   
Playing the tourist bit, they took a tour of the Old City, led by a guide in period clothing.   
"And here we are at Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence was signed to break away from Great Britain," the guide explained.  
"Down with the Brits," Crowley announced with a devilish grin.   
"Pip pip!" Aziraphale chimed.

They joined the tour across Independence Mall to the Constitution Center.   
"The Constitution and the Bill of Rights were momentous in the founding of the nation. They outline how the country and its government runs, and the liberties and rights its citizens have."  
"If you're white, male, Protestant, and straight," Crowley muttered.   
"They're working on it," Aziraphale said in a hush. 

Once the tour was completed, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to walk to the Franklin Institute.   
On their way, they spotted a group of people dressed in black, white, and green clothes, crowded outside a bar chanting   
"E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!"   
They behaved similarly to football fanatics back at home.  
"What on Earth?" Aziraphale exclaimed, clucking his tongue in disgust.   
"Oh, Angel, allow me to introduce my most demonic invention. American football!" the demon smirked, sauntering up to the group.  
"Oi!"   
The crowd turned to Crowley as they approached.   
"What can you tell me about the Cowboys?" they asked, feigning innocence.   
Darkness bubbled up from the crowd.   
"Cowboys…." the crowd seethed.   
"Those good-f'-nothin' cheaters."  
"Worse than the Patriots?" Crowley egged them on.   
"Worse!"  
The crowd suddenly broke into a rant about the long rivalry with the evil Cowboys.  
Crowley slinked back to Aziraphale, who tried to hide his amusement.   
"Your lot may have initially founded the City of Brotherly Love, but my lot," Crowley declared proudly, "is responsible for the Eagles."  
"The Eagles?"  
"Yep. The only team with fans ruthless enough to throw snowballs at Saint Nicholas himself," the demon puffed out their chest.   
"They threw snowballs at Santa Claus?!"   
"Oooh yeah. Brilliant craftsmanship, if I do say so myself."

At the Franklin Institute, Crowley immersed themself in the Outer Space Exhibit.   
"They're so clever," they breathed, watching a video of a rocket launch.  
"None of this would have been possible if it weren't for you," Aziraphale told them, gesturing to the space paraphernalia.  
"What do you mean?" Crowley blinked.   
"Well, you gave them the ability to choose, to think, to imagine," their husband explained sweetly.  
Crowley gaped. No one had ever told them anything positive about their actions in Eden.   
"D-dyou suppose I did the right thing?" they asked hesitantly.   
"It's ineffable. But I know it was a beautiful thing," Aziraphale answered, pulling Crowley close.   
"Come, my starmaker, we don't want to miss the planetarium show."

The lights dimmed in the planetarium, and Crowley leaned against Aziraphale.  
"What's the show about?" Crowley whispered.  
"Ssh, you'll see," Aziraphale patted his partner's thigh.   
It was pitch black now, and from behind Crowley's sunglasses, their yellow eyes glowed.   
They hoped they didn't disturb anyone.   
Suddenly, the domed ceiling lit up with stars, and at the center was a very familiar star system.  
"Alpha Centauri, the closest star system to Earth and the third brightest star in the night sky," the narrator announced.   
Crowley looked up in awe, agape, and gripped Aziraphale's hand.  
"While it may look like one very bright star, Alpha Centauri is actually two sunlike stars, orbiting so closely that they resemble one star."  
Throughout the presentation, Crowley never blinked, and held onto Aziraphale.  
As they walked out of the planetarium when the show was over, Crowley burst into tears.   
"I helped b-build that one!" they cried into Aziraphale's shoulder.   
"I know, I know, dearest."  
Aziraphale stroked Crowley's hair soothingly.   
"W-we're Alpha Centauri," they gasped between sobs.   
"Yes, darling, we're Alpha Centauri. We're Alpha Centauri."  
"I love you, Aziraphale," Crowley sighed.  
"I love you, too, my darling Crowley."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley accidentally find themselves on the wrong turf, and Crowley gets kidnapped.

From Philadelphia, Aziraphale and Crowley set off to drive West to California, planning to stop at various landmarks and cities along the way. Their path would wisely snake around the Bible Belt, as it would be too risky for them, and not only as supernatural entities.  
In South Dakota, they visited an old Western ghost town, and of course, Mount Rushmore.  
"Why do you think they chose those four?" Crowley asked aa they trekked up the mountain.  
"George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt?"  
"Yeah, I get George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, but Tom? I met him, he was a real twat. And from what I hear, Roosevelt was also quite the bugger."  
"Well, I presume since Jefferson wrote the Declaration-"  
"Twas a committee!"  
"Yes, well, he was quite eloquent, and they had to choose someone."  
"Did they? Did they have to deface a mountain and drive out its inhabitants?" Crowley challenged.  
"No, I suppose not. But you must admit, the artistry is magnificent," Aziraphale conceded.  
"Meh. I'd prefer it in its natural beauty."

They reached the top of the mountain, and continued on into the forest.  
"This is quite romantic, isn't it?" Aziraphale observed.  
They were alone, surrounded by the tall trees.  
"Yeah, perfect place for a murder," Crowley joked, licking their lips.  
"Oh, yes," Aziraphale agreed.  
"No one would hear you scream," the demon said softly from behind Aziraphale.  
"Whatever shall I do?" he whispered demurely.  
They were kissing passionately when they heard a rustling coming from the woods.  
Crowley instinctively took a protective stance in front of Aziraphale, holding out their walking stick as a weapon.  
"I'm warning you, I'm armed," they shouted, stepping toward the sounds.  
"Crowley, it's probably an animal."  
The demon flicked their tongue out, testing the air.  
Alarm bells rang in their head, but before they could register the thread, a Holy trap closed around them and dragged the demon deeper in the woods.  
"Aziraphale!" they screamed as their vision clouded into black nothingness.

Crowley opened their eyes with great difficulty, their head throbbing painfully, and the glaring light not helping at all.  
"It's awake," they heard a gruff voice say.  
"Good," another voice responded.  
Their vision still blurry, Crowley tentatively flicked out their tongue.  
There was an angelic presence, wherever they were.  
"Gabriel! You promised you'd leave us alone. When I'm on my feet-" they slurred before being slapped.  
Crowley stiffened.  
"Hey! What do you think you're doing, demon?"  
Crowley blinked, their vision becoming clearer.  
They could make out two men standing imposingly over them. That's when they realized they were tied to a chair.  
Crowley struggled at their restraints, their confusion turning to panic.  
"What do you want?" they asked weakly.  
"What are you doing in our territory? Who sent you?" the shorter of the men drilled.  
"Territory? I wasn't sent by anyone, m on vacation," Crowley protested, noticing the holy water in the corner.  
"What's your name?" the taller demanded.  
"Anthony J Crowley!" the demon answered.  
The two men narrowed their eyes.  
"Wrong answer," the shorter seethed.  
"S my name! I swear!"  
"No it's not! You must have changed it," the shorter accused.  
Crowley bit their lip anxiously.  
"Fine, fine, I did change it, but I haven't used my old name in two thousand years," they rambled.  
"What was it then?"  
"Crawly," they rasped.  
"Do you think we're idiots?" the shorter growled, walking towards the holy water.  
"Okay, okay, I was the Archangel Raphael! Is this what this about?" Crowley gasped.  
Suddenly, the taller man held an angelic blade to their throat.  
"Is this some sort of joke to you?!" he shouted.  
"No! I don't know what's going on! We were promised to be left alone!" Crowley swore fearfully.  
"Who is we?" a third voice asked.  
Crowley immediately closed their mouth.  
"Who is we?" the voice repeated, and it was an angelic voice.  
"N-no one. I didn't say 'we,' did I?" Crowley stammered quickly.  
The blade was pressed closer to their throat, and Crowley anxiously thought of Aziraphale. They hoped he was alright.  
"Who are you working for, angelic person?" Crowley asked shakily, refusing to use the word that had become a term of endearment for Aziraphale.  
"Who are you working for, demon?" the voice countered, still out of Crowley's line of sight.  
"I don't work for anyone. I resigned from Hell."  
"Then what were you doing with an angel?!"  
If it weren't painful to do so, Crowley would have rolled their eyes.  
"Don't tell me you just left him there in the forest," Crowley muttered.  
The two men looked at each other guiltily.  
"We saved his life," the shorter insisted.  
"Bullssshit, you probably gave him a heart attack, or the angelic equivalent of one. Not to mention ruined his vacation."  
At that, Crowley looked down, and realized he was missing his ring that he always wore on a chain around his neck.  
"Did you sssteal my ring?"  
"Your ring? Why were you wearing angelic material laced with occult and ethereal wards?"  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
"I've had enough," the shorter man grunted impatiently, reaching for huge pliers.  
"Hey, wait, what're you doing with the bloody contraption?!"  
The taller man grabbed Crowley's face and forced his mouth open.  
"We don't like doin' it, but we'll get answers out of you, demon."  
Crowley tried to wriggle out their bondings, but they were growing weaker by the minute. They tried spitting at the men, who slowly and painfully twisted out their molars. Blood and mucus gathered in the back of their throat, and Crowley gagged, sputtering blood from their mouth.  
"What were you doing with the angel?!"  
"N-nusssin" Crowley garbled tearfully.  
The men tied a gag around Crowley's mouth, and the demon's slitted pupils widened in terror as the shorter man reached for the holy water.  
"We're not getting anything out of it, Sam, may as well get rid of it."  
Crowley closed their eyes, and tried to conjure up a pleasant memory of Aziraphale. If they were going to die, at least the last thing they'd see would be the love of their life. Crowley braced themself for the agonizing end.

But the end didn't come.  
"Release the demon!" a blessed voice rang out, and Crowley heard the sound of a door being kicked down.  
"Aziraphale! What are you doing here?"  
"Castiel! Who gave you the right to kidnap my partner?!"  
Crowley craned their neck to see their husband, eyes filled with righteous fury, strong hands clenching a flaming sword. They gazed adoringly at their angel.  
"Crowley! What have they done to you?!" Aziraphale cried, kneeling in front of his spouse, and gently removing his gag.  
"A-angel," Crowley mumbled adoringly.  
"My darling, I am so sorry it took me so long to find you," Aziraphale apologized, carefully removing Crowley's restraints.  
"Hey! What are you doing?!" the two men exclaimed.  
"Releasing my life partner from your terrible bonds."  
"Life partner?" the other angel echoed as Crowley collapsed in Aziraphale's arms.  
"You must not have gotten the memo, Castiel," Aziraphale told him coolly, gently running his hands along Crowley's wounds, healing them.  
"I haven't been in Heaven for a while," Castiel admitted.  
"Nor have I. Crowley and I renounced both Heaven and Hell ages ago," Aziraphale informed him.  
"Are you alright, my dear?" he turned to Crowley, who was wincing.  
"Yeah, ngh, better now that you're here, love."  
Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley, radiating loving and healing warmth.  
"I do not understand. Why do you care about this demon?" Castiel asked.  
"You really...ngh...are denser than Gabriel," Crowley groaned, "he's my bloody husband."  
The two men and Castiel gasped.  
"Do close your mouth, you'll catch flies," Aziraphale told them sarcastically.  
"Did you give it the ring?" Castiel asked when he recovered from shock.  
"You took their ring?!" Aziraphale almost shouted.  
"Ooh, you made him angry. You won't like him when he'ssss angry," Crowley hissed proudly.  
Aziraphale pressed his hands together and breathed in through his teeth.  
"Kindly return my partner's ring-"  
"Dean"  
"Dean," he glared.  
The shorter man, Dean, clutched the ring behind his back.  
Aziraphale's blue eyes flickered angrily.  
"Return the ring, apologize to my darling, and maybe I'll forget you rudely interrupted our honeymoon," he commanded testily.  
"I'd listen to him, if I were you," Crowley warned in a sing-song voice.  
"Dean, you do not want to be on the receiving end of that sword, and you definitely do not want him to smite you," Castiel agreed.  
"What trenchcoat ssssaid," Crowley quipped.  
Dean muttered under his breath and relented, tossing the ring to Crowley, who caught it midair.  
"Thankssss, Groucho."  
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends here?" Aziraphale prodded Castiel, never losing his wry sweetness.  
"Sam Winchester," the taller man held out his hand.  
Aziraphale grimaced.  
"Forgive me if I don't shake the hand covered in my beloved's blood."  
Sam turned red and pulled his hand away.  
"Dean Winchester," Dean finally muttered after Castiel gave him a look.  
"Ah, brothers, correct?"  
Sam nodded.  
"You care deeply for your brother, don't you, Dean?"  
"Y-yes," Dean answered slowly.  
"And what about Castiel? Do you care about him, too?"  
Dean nodded and looked away.  
Aziraphale smiled wickedly.  
"So you'll understand me when I tell you, Dean and Sam Winchester," he stood face-to-face to Dean so that he was almost breathing down his neck, "that I care very, very deeply about my Crowley here, and I love very them much, and if you so much as think about going near them, I will personally drown you in a pool of sulphur and use your blood as fuel for your precious Impala. Do we have an understanding?"  
Crowley practically swooned.  
"Yes, we do," Dean gulped.  
"Excellent."  
Aziraphale took Crowley's hand, gave a final threatening smile at the Winchesters, and marched away from the baffled hunters and awestruck angel.

"You are so attractive when you're wrathful," Crowley gushed when they were back at their hotel.  
"Well," Aziraphale said primly, "they were hurting you."  
"I think you made that Dean fellow wet his pants."  
"Serves him right for laying hands on my darling spouse."  
Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a tight embrace.  
"I almost lost you," he shuddered.  
"Bloody Americans. Could give Shadwell a run for his money," Crowley mused.  
"Indeed. Well, thank goodness we're heading out of this place tomorrow."  
Crowley sighed in agreement.  
"I thought we'd be safe with our angelic and demonic wards," Aziraphale lamented, "I didn't think we'd have to worry about humans. Do you know any human wards?"  
"Body odor," Crowley chuckled, and Aziraphale promptly hit them on the side of the head with a pillow.  
"Foul fiend," he teased.  
"Bassstard," Crowley returned with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love it when Aziraphale goes full-on bastard. And I included the headcanon that Crowley was Raphael because it would be hilarious if he met the Winchesters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next stop on their trip is Yellowstone National Park, but the ever-lingering sulfurous smell of the park is too familiar for a certain retired demon.

After a few days on the road, and a stop at a tourist trap, Aziraphale and Crowley arrived at Yellowstone National Park.  
They stepped out of the car and looked around at the Old Faithful Lodge.   
A gust of pungent air hit them, and Crowley paled.   
"Oh my, that is quite the scent," Aziraphale remarked, holding a handkerchief to his nose.   
"Y-yes," Crowley said quickly, "let'sss go inside."  
"Good idea. I'll go get us a baggage trolley."  
Aziraphale gave Crowley a quick kiss before running off, leaving the demon alone in the sulphurous air.   
Crowley felt a burning ache on their back as they felt themself being pulled back to the Fall. They closed their eyes, trying to snap out of it, but their entire body felt like it was in flames.

Inside the Lodge, Aziraphale was engaged in a friendly conversation with a Bellboy. He gotten distracted and couldn't help bragging about his wonderful partner. The Bellboy, a closeted gay teen, felt a glimmer of hope at hearing how confident and happy Aziraphale and his partner were.   
"Well, I'd better get back to them before they think something happened," Aziraphale chuckled.  
He started wheeling the trolley to the door when a frantic man burst in.   
"Someone call an ambulance! There's a lady having a seizure!"  
Aziraphale ran out of help. A crowd had formed right around where he had left Crowley.   
Oh no…  
The angel pushed people aside, and his worst fears were confirmed.   
Crowley was sprawled on the pavement, writhing and thrashing and making unintelligible noises.  
"Crowley!" he gasped, kneeling by the demon.  
"Get back!" he shouted at the crowd, we stepped back.   
Aziraphale took Crowley's hands, where long claws had protruded.  
He leaned over his partner, shielding them from curious eyes.   
"Crowley, Crowley, my dear," Aziraphale crooned, grasping their head firmly.   
"You're in Yellowstone Park, the Apocalypse has been averted, and your name is Anthony J Crowley," he told him slowly and clearly.   
"You're not Falling, you're not in Hell, you're with me, Aziraphale, on Earth."  
He held Crowley to his chest, rocking them gently.   
After what felt like an eternity, Crowley's erratic breathing finally slowed, and their body relaxed in Aziraphale's arms.   
"What's your name?" Aziraphale asked slowly.  
Crowley's face was turned to Aziraphale, bit their eyes were staring off past the concerned angel.   
"Anthony J Crowley," they finally answered meekly.  
"What does the 'J' stand for?"   
"J-just a 'J,' really," Crowley replied quietly.  
Aziraphale let out a soft smile.   
"Good, good, my dear. Where are you?" he continued.  
Crowley hesitantly turned their head and looked around.   
Miraculously, there were no people looking, all having found something else to occupy their interest.   
"Earth?"  
"That's right, darling, we're on Earth. Not in Heaven, not in Hell."   
He kissed Crowley's forehead gently.   
"You must be exhausted," he murmured.   
"M sorry"  
"Don't apologise, love. Let me take you to our room."

As Crowley slept, Aziraphale read anything he could find on the internet about trauma and mental health.   
"Aziraphale," Crowley's quiet voice pierced the tense silence.  
"Crowley! How long have you been awake?" he closed his ancient laptop and sat by his partner.  
"Long enough. I'm sorry for ruining our honeymoon," Crowley apologized.  
Aziraphale felt warmth wash over him.  
"You have nothing to apologize for, love. I shouldn't have suggested we take this trip. It seems it's only been hurting you," he told him sadly.   
Crowley sat up and took Aziraphale's hand.  
"Don't sssay that, Angel. I've had fun" they insisted.  
Aziraphale looked doubtful.  
"Crowley, you were accosted by security officers and unfairly targeted before we even left the airport, you were kidnapped and tortured by crazed demon-hunters, and got triggered into going back to your Fall. And it's all my fault."  
"S nothing I haven't dealt with before," Crowley responded, but when they saw how sad Aziraphale looked at hearing that, they immediately regretted mentioning it.  
"Hey, look, Aziraphale, I've been having the time of my life, you know why?"  
Aziraphale bit his lip, unable to bring himself to look at Crowley.  
"Because I've been spending all my time with the love of my life and my besst friend, that'sss why," Crowley stroked Aziraphale's cheek, "and there's nowhere elssse I'd rather be than with you."  
Aziraphale sniffed and wiped away a stray tear.  
"Why are you comforting me? I should be comforting you!" he cried, pulling away.  
"You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders, Angel. You're allowed to be upset."  
Crowley wrapped themself around their angel, messaging his back.  
"Angel, I made a promise to you that I'd be by your side, always."  
They clasped Aziraphale's hand, spindly fingers intertwining with smooth ones.  
"And I, by yours, darling," Aziraphale said tenderly.  
"I love you so much, Crowley."  
"I love you to, my dearest Aziraphale."

They both slept late, and when they finally woke up, Aziraphale suggested they take it easy. Crowley, on the other hand, was insistent that they were up to venturing out.   
"C'mon, Angel, we're not going to stay indoors when there's an entire caldera to see!"   
"Crowley, I don't want you to exert yourself. We can go out tomorrow."  
"Angel, really, I'm feeling fine. I just had a shock, thas all," Crowley nudged.  
Aziraphale took a deep breath.   
"Alright. There's no dissuading you, love," he said, "but if at any point you don't feel well, tell me, and we'll go back to the Lodge immediately."  
"I will, Angel," Crowley promised. 

To mitigate the sulphurous smell which triggered Crowley's anxiety, Aziraphale conjured a sleek mask, which he filled with sprigs of sweet-smelling herbs.   
"I look like the Winter Soldier," Crowley said proudly when they saw themself in the mirror.  
Aziraphale, who had no idea who or what the Winter Soldier was, couldn't tell if Crowley was happy about that.  
"Is that a good thing?"  
The demon puffed out their chest.  
"Yeah, s a good thing. The Winter Soldier is cool, he's an assassin with a metal arm.  
Aziraphale furrowed his brow.  
"Oh dear," he tutted.  
"He killed loads of people, but he doesn't mean to. He used to be a good guy, but then he fell, and was forced to do horrible things, an he wears a mask an glasses so no one recognizes him, but when he took off his mask, Captain America recognized him because they were friends even though they were s'posed to be enemies," they explained in as simplest terms as they could.  
If Aziraphale thought he knew why Crowley liked the character, he didn't say it.  
"Interesting," he nodded slowly.   
"C'mon, Angel, les go!" Crowley said excitedly. 

Despite his initial worries, Aziraphale was relieved to see that Crowley was enjoying themself. Of course, the first sight they had to see was Old Faithful, just outside the Lodge.   
They waited with bated breath a for the geyser to erupt, and when it did, they were both awestruck. Crowley tilted their head back at the towering pillar of scalding water. Aziraphale took their hand.  
"Did you know," Crowley murmured, "that if this volcano were to erupt, it would probably trigger an ice age and block out the sun?"  
Aziraphale scrunched up his face.  
"Isn't that killing the mood, dear?" he grimaced.  
Crowley turned to their angel.  
"It could have happened. Adam could have decided that was the best way to end it," they said simply.  
The angel studied Crowley's features.  
"My love, why are you thinking about the Apocalypse?"  
The demon leaned on Aziraphale.  
"I'm glad it didn't happen. I'm glad the world didn't end, and we don't have to fight each other. I'm glad I'm here, holding your hand, and that we can spend every second together on this beautiful Earth."  
Aziraphale's heart stirred at Crowley's sentimentality.   
"Oh, Crowley, my love, what did I ever do to deserve you?" he murmured, twisting a strand of Crowley's hair between his fingers.  
"I ask myself the same thing, Angel."  
Aziraphale pulled Crowley's face to him and kissed their forehead, the only part of their face not covered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale visit Grand Prismatic Spring, and encounter some humans. 
> 
> Trigger Warning for slight transphobia (Americans, what can I say?)

"What's the holdup?" Crowley grumbled.  
They were in their rental car, and traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see.  
"This is worse than the M-25," the demon groaned.  
Aziraphale leaned out the window.  
"I don't think the M-25 has bison, dear," he commented, holding out a tin of biscuits for Crowley.  
"Thankssss."

"Oh, Crowley, look!" Aziraphale gasped, pointing out to the shimmering hot spring.  
"I see, Angel," Crowley nodded.  
"It's magnificent! It looks just like a nebula!"  
"Almost as hot as one, too," the demon agreed.  
"Did you know that there are new hotsprings being formed every day?"  
Crowley looked off to the distance, letting the warm breeze hit their face.  
“I’m glad we came here. S nice,” they remarked.  
“Nice? Isn’t that a four-letter-word?” Aziraphale teased.  
“Other things can be nice, Angel. Jus’ not me. M not nice,” his partner explained.  
“Ah. Of course.”

They were standing, taking in the view, when their peace was interrupted by a couple frantically shouting.  
“Somebody help us! Our daughter ran off and we can’t find her!”  
Soon, a crowd had gathered around the couple. Aziraphale and Crowley cautiously approached the couple. Crowley could feel the negative emotions rippling off them.  
“Excuse us, Sir, Madam, my partner and I were wondering if we could help,” Aziraphale offered.  
The couple glanced at Crowley apprehensively, but they were desperate.  
“Could you?” the wife asked hopefully.  
“What does your daughter look like, so we could try and find her?” the angel asked gently.  
The husband hesitated before answering.  
“She has brown hair in pigtails, and brown hair,”  
“Oh, and she’s wearing green overalls with blue shoes,” the wife added.  
“Right. How tall is she?” Crowley asked impatiently. They didn’t need all those irrelevant details, only the size of her heat signature.  
“Uh, three foot one. Oh, wait, you’re British, right?”  
“S fine. M not an idiot,” the demon hissed, and turned to their husband.  
“Angel, m goin’ to find her. Stay here with the parents,” they told him.  
“What’s her name?” Crowley asked the bewildered couple.  
“Maisy. We already alerted the Ranger-”  
“Ranger’ll be too late,” Crowley grumbled as they headed off the trail and into the woods. 

When Crowley had disappeared into the woods, Aziraphale turned to the couple.  
“Anthony is excellent at finding people. Don’t worry, they will find your daughter,” he assured them.  
“In any case, the Rangers have been dispatched,” the husband insisted.

In the forest, Crowley, now in their snake form, was honing in on the missing child. They scanned the forest, flicking their tongue to detect the familiar young scent of a six year old child. It took all their effort to isolate the overpowering odor of sulfur. Fortunately, in their snake form, the odor was reduced to its chemical compounds, so it didn’t trigger the traumatic memories as much as it did when they were in their human form. From between the looming trees, Crowley could ‘see’ Maisy’s warm outline, who had finally stopped running and was kneeling by a chipmunk den. She was talking to the creature, Crowley could tell from the vibrations.  
They hid behind a tree as they transformed into their human form.

“Hey, Maisy,” they said softly, as to not scare the girl.  
Maisy turned around, and her brown eyes were wide with fear.  
“Who are you?” she asked.  
“Your parents are looking for you. You scared them,” Crowley told her, sitting on the log next to her.  
“You look silly,” she said, pointing to their face, still covered by the mask and sunglasses.  
“Do I? That’s not very nice.”  
“It’s not Halloween.”  
“That’s true,” the demon chuckled.  
“I found a chip’unk,” Maisy told them solemnly, “he runned away.”  
“Did he now?”  
“Yeah.”

Maisy looked at Crowley, studying them with her innocent curiosity.  
“I wanna stay in the forest,” she told them firmly.  
“And why’s that?”  
“I wanna be like Peter Pan, an’ fly with fairies,” she explained, flapping her arms to demonstrate.  
“Your parents would miss you if you flew away,” Crowley countered, “besides, you don’t have wings.”  
Maisy pouted.  
“Neither do you!”  
Crowley snorted at that.  
“I’ll tell you what, Maisy. Let’s play fairies, and fly back to your parents,” they suggested.  
“You can’t fly,” she argued as-a-matter-of-factly, “you’re not a kid.”  
“We can pretend.”  
Maisy seemed to consider their suggestion, cocking her head to the side.  
“I am hungry,” she admitted.  
“Well, if you stay in the forest, you’ll have to eat mice and worms.”  
The child made a face.  
“That’s yucky!”  
“It is. But that’s what you’d have to eat if you stayed here.”  
That seemed to convince the petulant kid.  
“I don’ wanna stay in the forest if I have to eat worms,” she told the demon, crossing her arms.  
“Good thing we can go back, Maisy,” they assured her. 

Back at the edge of the forest, Aziraphale was immersed in conversation with Maisy’s parents, who had by now introduced themselves by name to him.  
“He’s not sick, is he?” the wife, who had by that point introduced herself as Carol Brown, asked.  
“Sick?” Aziraphale repeated.  
“Your, uh, husband is wearing a mask, is he sick?”  
Aziraphale clasped his hands over his stomach, perhaps to restrain himself from reacting to the humans’ blatent rudeness.  
“My partner isn’t sick, Mrs. Brown, I assure you. They,” he emphasized, “have a sensitivity to the rather pungent smell in this area.”  
The husband, Tim, chortled.  
“It certainly does stink!” he laughed heartily.  
Two Park Rangers approached the three.  
“You’re Mr. and Mrs. Brown?” one of the Rangers asked.  
“Yes, we are,” Carol replied with relief.  
“We came as soon as we got the alert. We’ll dispatch a search team as soon we run over a few routine questions-”  
“Came as soon as you got the alert, didya?” the demon’s familiar voice interrupted.  
Crowley emerged from the woods, and Mr. and Mrs. Brown lit up when they saw Maisy by Crowley’s side.  
“Maisy!” Carol cried, running to her daughter.  
“You scared us so much, sweetheart.”  
“I sawed a chip’unk, Mommy!” Maisy said excitedly.  
“You’re lucky you didn’t have to rely on these imbecile “Rangers,” or you would never’ve gotten to Maisy in time,” Crowley told Carol dryly.  
“Excuse me, who exactly are you?” the ranger asked indignantly.  
“Anthony J. Crowley, Madam, the person responsible for you not losing your job,” Crowley answered curtly, glaring at the rangers from behind their shades.  
“And why exactly would I lose my job?” the ranger sputtered.  
“Well, s what happens when a kid dies from a rattlesnake bite because the Park Rangers would rather take their ssssweet time,” they said, their anger thinly veiled behind nonchalance.  
“Rattlesnake?” Tim asked with worry.  
“Don’t worry, she didn’t even see it. Led her away before she even knew it was there.”  
“You must be an angel,” Carol told them after hearing of the danger they had saved her daughter from.  
“Ha!” Crowley scoffed, then walked to Aziraphale.  
“C’mon, Angel, I need a drink.”  
“Of course you do, dear, you must be exhausted,” the angel told them, taking their hands.  
“Now, h-hold on, you can’t go yet!” the second Ranger protested as Crowley and Aziraphale turned to go.  
“Why not?” Crowley demanded.  
“We’ll have to write up a report. Paperwork!”  
“You don’t have to write any report, because you didn’t do anything,” the demon countered testily.  
“Well, uh-”  
“And you’d better pray to whatever you believe in that I don’t rat off about your negligence,” they threatened, took Aziraphale’s hand, and stormed off, leaving the rangers baffled.

“Not one word, Angel,” Crowley muttered as they climbed into their rental car.  
“I never said anything, dear,” Aziraphale said, sitting primly in his seat.  
Crowley closed the car door, shaking their head fondly. They reached for the steering wheel, and, at finding nothing there, turned, startled to their partner.  
“Right,” they huffed, scooting to switch seats.  
“There”  
“Move your leg”  
“Ngh”  
“Well, this is oddly intimate,” Aziraphale chuckled as he found himself on Crowley’s lap.  
“Stupid American car models.”  
With a little more shifting about, Crowley finally made it to the driver’s seat, and Aziraphale to the passenger’s.  
“I’m not going to say anything, dear,” the angel began, continuing their prior conversation.  
“Well, I know you’re thinking something,”  
“I am,” he confirmed, and leaned to press a kiss to his partner’s lips.  
“Mmmph. I should save lost kids more often.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up the average height of a six-year-old girl, and then I had to convert it to inches, and then I realized that nobody says their height in inches, so I had to convert that to feet. If the height is wrong, it's entirely my fault, and you can pretend it's a normal height.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley go camping. This chapter is dedicated to thetunewillcome's Summer Omens prompt 'camp.'

The next morning, Aziraphale urged Crowley to wake up early so they could pack their things and head out to Grand Teton National Park.  
“Don’t wanna, Angel. Wanna sleep more,” the demon mumbled when Aziraphale roused him from his slumber.  
“Crowley, this camping trip was your idea. Come, get up, love,” Aziraphale sighed.  
Crowley tossed a pillow at their partner’s face.  
“Too tired. You drive,” they muttered from under the pillow.  
“FIne. Now get up.”

Once they had packed all their things and checked out of the lodge, Crowley curled up in the passenger seat.   
“S too early,” they grumbled.  
Aziraphale smiled fondly as he climbed into the driver’s seat.   
“You can sleep the rest of the way, dear,” he told his demon.

About half an hour into the drive, Crowley stirred from their sleep.   
“We there yet?” they asked groggily.  
“Not yet. About an hour more to go.”  
Crowley groaned and reached into their trouser pocket. Their eyes widened in alarm when they felt the pocket empty.   
“Aziraphale! We have to go back!” they cried urgently.  
“Go back? Whatever for?”  
“My sunglasses! I must have left them in our room”  
Aziraphale rolled his eyes.   
“They probably fell out of your pocket, dear, while you were asleep,” he told them calmly, keeping his eyes on the road.   
Crowley undid their belt and felt around their seat.   
“I can’t find them! Aziraphale, I can’t go out without them!” they blubbered anxiously.   
“Crowley, we can’t just turn around. We’re already a half hour in” the angel explained.  
“But I need them! Aziraphale, you don’t underssssssstand, I need them. I can’t go out without ‘em!” they shouted, practically sobbing.   
Aziraphale sighed sympathetically.   
“Alright. I see that you really need them, love. I’ll turn around, but just this once, dear.”  
Crowley exhaled in relief, but they were still shaking a bit. Aziraphale pulled off the side of the road and turned around. He turned to Crowley, who was still tense and chewing on their fingers.  
“Crowley, dear, hold my hand. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he said gently.   
Crowley slowly pulled their hand down stiffly.   
“Sssssssssorry,” they croaked.  
“It’s alright, dear. We all have our moments,” Aziraphale assured them, glancing at their partner.  
He paused, seeing something familiar dangling from Crowley’s collar.   
“Dear?” he cleared his throat, tapping Crowley’s hand.  
“Yeah?”   
“Look down.”  
Crowley obeyed, and looked down at their chest. Their, dangling from their shirt collar, were their sunglasses. They gasped.   
“My sunglasses!”  
Aziraphale chuckled.  
“Yes, love. They must have been there the entire time!” he giggled.  
Crowley went silent.  
“So, I made all the fusssss about nothing?”   
“Well, you didn’t think it was nothing. Don’t feel bad, dear. No harm done.”

They arrived at the lake, where they were supposed to take a sightseeing cruise to an island where they would camp.   
“What do you mean you don’t have our reservations?!” Crowley demanded angrily of the ticketmaster.   
“I mean we don’t have them, sir. Are you sure you booked them for today?”  
“Of coursssse I bloody well am sure! Check again, you daft human!” the demon growled.   
The ticketmaster gulped.   
“I’ll check again, but I’m not sure-”  
“Oh, thank you, my good man. They should be under Anthony Crowley,” Aziraphale said kindly, putting a hand on his partner’s shoulder.   
“Right,” the ticketmaster mumbled.   
“We, uh, we don’t have any reservation for any Crowley. We had for a Cowley, but- but someone already claimed it.”  
Crowley gritted their teeth.   
“That’ssss me! You lot alwaysssss get my name wrong! Whoever claimed it it must have lied!” he shouted, but stopped when Aziraphale glared righteously at them.   
“Well, there’s nothing I can do now about it. The cruise already left,” the ticketmaster shrugged.   
“It left???!!!”  
“The passenger list was filled, so it left while you two were in here.”  
Crowley looked at their partner and muttered under their breath, “please let me at least trip this bloke.”  
“Now, now, dear,” Aziraphale smiled, then turned to the ticketmaster.  
“Well, then, is there any other vessel that can take us to the island?” he asked sweetly.   
The ticketmaster began to shake his head, then stopped.   
“Actually, we do have a speedboat-”  
“Oh no-” Aziraphale began.  
“We’ll take it!” Crowley grinned devilishly, suddenly in a far better mood. 

Azirphale’s knuckles were white as he gripped Crowley’s hand. Water sprayed in every direction from the engine, and Aziraphale felt sick. Crowley, however, was enjoying every moment.   
“Isn’t this fun?” they yelled over the sound of the motor.   
“No,” Aziraphale whimpered.  
Crowley's smile faded when they saw their partner’s expression.   
“You alright? Too fast?” they asked with concern.  
“Too fast. Far too fast!” the angel confirmed, trembling.   
“Oi! Boat human!”   
The captain turned around to face the couple.  
“Yes?”   
“Can you slow the boat down?” they asked, then added, “please?”  
The captain nodded, and the boat slowed down.   
“Thank you, dear,”  
“Anything, angel,” Crowley said firmly, giving their partner’s hand a loving squeeze.

“Can’t we spare at least one teeny tiny miracle?” Crowley whined as they and Aziraphale struggled to pitch their tent.  
“Is it an emergency, love?”  
“Well, err, not really, but we’ll never get this tent up otherwise!”  
“Oh, come now, it should be muscle memory. We just need to jog those skills. You’re the one who wanted to go camping,” Aziraphale reminded them, rereading the instruction manual for the tent.   
“I didn’t think it would be this difficult! It looks so easy and romantic in films,” the demon pouted.   
“But you have pitched a tent before, haven’t you? I’ve visited your tent before! Remember, back in Sinai?”   
“I always miracled it. S faster.”  
“I should have known,” Aziraphale tutted good-naturedly. 

In the end, their tent turned out to look nothing like the picture. It didn’t matter, though, because they were too tired to care. The mosquitoes didn’t even dare to bite, and they cuddled all night.   
"Didja know that Grand Tetons means big tits?" Crowley whispered right before they fell asleep.  
"You fiend," Aziraphale answered, kissing their forehead.   
Crowley grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sunglasses incident actually happened to me, and so did the boat incident! I really enjoyed the speedboat ride, though, and I reckon it was a lot more fun than a sightseeing cruise would have been.


End file.
